


Guitar Riffs

by AriRashkae



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, because you'll be too out of breath later, everyone pick on Wash while you can, more bad humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 13:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6986338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriRashkae/pseuds/AriRashkae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>riff /rif/ noun: riff; plural noun: riffs</p>
<p>1. (in popular music and jazz) a short repeated phrase, frequently played over changing chords or harmonies or used as a background to a solo improvisation.<br/>"a brilliant guitar riff"</p>
<p>2. a monologue or spoken improvisation, especially a humorous one, on a particular subject.<br/>"subsequent riffs on the same themes fail to amuse"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guitar Riffs

Wash hissed as he worked the ointment into his fingers. In the euphoria of finally playing again, he had forgotten how much it was going to _hurt_ when he was done.

It had been hard to pick up a guitar again after all those years, but it had been even harder _not_ to. So now he had to deal with the blisters and raw skin until his fingers toughened up again. And he was _definitely_ going to keep playing. He hadn't wanted to even try after ... Freelancer ... but music was apparently the one thing he hadn't lost. He wasn’t giving it up again.

Unfortunately, he _had_ lost all his calluses, which meant starting over with the hands of a novice. He rubbed a little more antibiotic onto a particularly raw spot. Hopefully his gloves would have enough cushioning for him to get through the day.

"Dude, what the hell happened to you?"

Wash looked up, embarrassed, as Tucker wandered into their common area, coffee cups in hand. Wash must have been sitting there longer than he thought, if Tucker was up and, more importantly, _dressed._ The only other person who'd been up when Wash started had been Caboose, because Caboose didn't seem to grasp normal sleep cycles any better than anything else. He had spent the whole time sitting so quietly, just fascinated, that Wash unfortunately had forgotten he was there.

"Agent Washington found a guitar!" Caboose was practically bouncing from excitement now that the spell was broken. 

"And, what?" Tucker swapped a fresh coffee for Wash's empty mug. "Tried to wrestle it into submission? Looks like you lost, Wash," he snickered.

Wash carefully wrapped his aching hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into his fingers. "I forgot how much it can hurt before your fingers toughen up," he admitted. "I ... _might_ have played a little longer than was wise."

"Don't worry, Agent Washington," Caboose said. "I'm sure your fingering will get better with practice."

Wash sighed. Tucker choked on his coffee. "Dammit, Caboose! You beat me to it!" he gasped.

Donut, of course, chose that moment to stick his head through the doorway. "What's this about beating and fingering?" Wash buried his head in his hands as Tucker started giggling uncontrollably.

"Agent Washington hasn't played the guitar in a really long time, and then he played it for a really long time, and now his fingers are sore." Caboose pointed to the offending instrument laying innocently on the table.

Donut waved one hand dismissively. "Ah, you'll be fine as long as your G-string isn't so tight it snaps. I hate it when they do that." Tucker laughed even harder. Wash heaved another sigh.

"Of all the squads, on all the planets, in all of colonized space," Wash stated, staring at the ceiling "I somehow ended up here."

Tucker managed to take a breath. Wash glared at him.

"Say it, and you'll be running laps until sundown." 

Tucker hid his laughter behind his coffee cup. Wash let him believe he didn’t hear the muffled _“bow-chicka-bow-wow.”_

_Look at that, today is Leg Day again. Imagine that._


End file.
